


we're only sleeping [version 2]

by The Key To Imagine (whiskeywit)



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 03:31:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10428174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeywit/pseuds/The%20Key%20To%20Imagine
Summary: Title: We're Only Sleeping [version 2]Author: fab4fic_loverRating: PGWord Count: 856Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles or any of their rights; this is only a work of fiction.A/N: A while ago I posted a fic called 'We're only sleeping' (the story can be found here). Magegirl8 left a comment, telling me it was a good fic, but that I probably had to set the mood better to make it a better story. I took her advice and re-wrote it into, well... this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Backup of old fic originally posted to the Beatles community JohnheartPaul, currently residing on key_to_imagine, currently in locked status. Summary contains the header as is on the LJ post.
> 
> Originally posted pre 28 DECEMBER 2008.

We're only sleeping 

They all were exhausted by the time the show was over. The girls had been shouting and going crazy as always, the atmosphere had been stifling, and afterwards the four of them had tried to get away quickly as possible. Tomorrow was their first free day in weeks, and every Beatle plus entourage was planning on doing something for themselves, which probably meant they would be lazing around for the better part of the day. 

Now, back at the hotel, John was making himself ready to go to bed. It was the first time in ages since he and Paul were sharing a room, and because something had gone wrong with the bookings they would have to share a bed. George was exhausted, and moody since John had often been writing songs until late in the evening they had to come up with a new album soon. John knew the songs came more easily to Paul, but he too had been writing until far past midnight, and even though Ringo was perfectly capable of sleeping through the sound, everybody had agreed that if John and Paul shared a room, they could write all night long and give George and Ringo some well-deserved rest. 

As if he didn't need it, John thought moodily. He was currently observing himself in the mirror, looking at his perfectly cut hair, his pale cheeks – from exhaustion only, he knew – and his eyes, which many girls seemed to love but he couldn't quite see what exactly they liked about them. The bright light of the bathroom shone brightly into his eyes, and the white tiles only seemed to make it hurt them more. 

All in all, he really wanted to go to sleep. Feel the warm cover around him, and be able to forget about his hectic day-to-day life, feeling free instead of living in a rut, even though it was at least supposed to be exciting. 

The thing was, as aforementioned, there was just one bed in their room. White sheets, soft and warm – warmed by another body, actually – no paintings on the wall, just a mostly white room except for the wooden floor, tables beside the bed, and bed frame. And John wouldn't have cared if it was any body, except for the body currently safely tucked in. 

He leaned against the door, taking a few deep breaths and then finally walked into the main room. 

He undressed to his underwear and then slipped under the covers. Paul's breathing was low and calm, and John thought he was sleeping already, so he permitted himself to lay on his side and look at Paul – who was facing the other way. Stared at the dark mop, laying there, and not knowing anything about what John thought about him. 

His heart ached at the way they were always laying like this. When they were younger they had shared a bed before as well. Paul had once taken him to his uncle and aunt's, where they pretended to be brothers. Brothers, yeah right. Then he'd taken Paul with him to Paris, where they had stayed in one room, with one bed, for one reason only; it was cheaper. And Paul didn't get the hint, thought the only reason why he didn't take Cyn was that she had to study for her exams. Exams his ass, if John had wanted to go away with her, he'd just picked another day. It was always only sleeping. They shared a bed, the duvet, their warmth probably too. And if they weren't, they were sharing thoughts and ideas, stimulating each other to write better songs, and surely John loved it, but it wasn't enough. It never was enough. Because it was only sleeping together and it wasn't what he really wanted. 

He lifted his hand, and before he could stop himself he laid it on Paul's neck, felt the thick hair tickling slightly against the skin of his hand, and he wondered what it would be like if he had the courtesy of touching him like that when he was awake. Even though he thought Paul sighed when he touched the warm skin, he quickly pushed the thought away. Hope wasn't allowed. 

But still he couldn't help but wonder. He wondered what it would feel like if his touch had made Paul shiver, just a little gesture of love in return for the feelings he was reveling in each day anew. 

He turned to lay on his back, and he knew it would be one of those lonely, sleepless nights again. The ones that hurt most, because he was so bloody close to what he wanted, in all aspects, while he knew he would never ever reach what he desired. The ones in which he refused to actually fall asleep, because of the same reason; he was closer to him than normal. He stared at the ceiling, feeling the pain and allowing it until he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. 

Then he squeezed them closed, and pretended they were sleeping together. Sleeping, midnight romance, real love. 

 

~The end


End file.
